As It Seems
by SassyOcean
Summary: After so long in hiding, a meeting in a closet isn't quite the place you would like to unravel. S/T and N/P. Rated M for homosexual interaction, language, and drug use.
1. Outted

Hot bubbling water cascaded around each one of the males, each fairly drunk to their own measure.

The youngest of the group tried desperately to stare straight ahead, the large flat screen playing a documentary on the civil war that somehow Murderface had convinced them to watch. His focus was constantly being broken, a pale hand running it's long fingers against the inside of his thigh, always getting close enough for tension but never close **enough**.

The Swede by his side was grinning to himself deviously, watching Toki squirm beside him, at some points trying to shoo his hand away and other times trying to lead it to his member, but always failing as Skwisgaard hand was much more resistant and a scene could not be made in front of the other men.

They all stayed in silence, the only noise being an echo that was being pronounced by the documentary. It was then broken by the oldest of them, Pickles the Drummer. He slowly rose from the hot tub, grabbing a towel with razor sharp speed to conceal his bare lower half (clothes were banned in the Jacuzzi).

"Well, not that this ain't fun, but if I see one more hairy ass man get shot in the leg I'm gonna scream like-a goat." He slurred, a long island ice tea still gripped in his hand as his legs dripped against the tile, making his way to his own quarters.

"Pickles is right. This shit isn't brutal; they never even die from the shots, just stupid jackoff doctors. And no headshots. Fuck that." The burly lead added, also emerging from the steaming bowl of water the remaining four (now three) relaxed in. His skill with hiding his body quickly with the towel was much less perfected than the previous red-head, everyone being revealed to the heavy member of Nathan Explosion.

"Gah, puts it away Nathans!" the blonde quickly gasped, shielding his eye with his free hand. The lead only grunted, not caring much that the three saw it in such stupid circumstances.

"Yeah. Fuck off." He said, trudging away, the same way Pickles went, which led to his own quarters as well.

Murderface began to get angry, stabbing the floor beside him with a knife he always seemed to have handy.

"Fuckin' aschholes, don't know schit 'bout history." He mumbled, eyes still intent on the screen, which now showed a (apparently) very distinguished professor talking on Abraham Lincoln.

"Pfft, fucks da government." Skwisgaard huffed at the tv, having always disapproved of it all, being the strict anarchist he is.

His hand that had been on his lovers thigh removed itself, causing Toki to look at his fellow guitarist in questioning, watching as he was quickly winked at.

"I agrees wit da guys, dis sucks _balls_. Comes on Tokis, I shows you new guitars arranges-ment for new album." The Swede said to Murderface, wrapping himself up in a fluffy black towel, handing Toki one.

They both walked away from the fuming bass player, him yelling something on the Civil War being "more important than their dildo guitar bullschit".

As soon as they entered the long, empty, hallway Skwisgaard pushed the younger man to the nearest wall, his tongue slipping into Toki's mouth as their mouths met.

The rhythm guitarist laughed into his lover's breath, kissing back hard and passionate, rubbing his groin up against the other Nord, his hard-on already prominent from the constant teasing in the hot tub.

He quietly moaned the name of his partner, the long hallway prone to echoes. As he did a door was creaking open, Pickles striding out of his room, still only in a towel.

Skwisgaard was much faster at reacting than the panicked Norwegian, throwing them both into closet only a few steps away that was used to house a large supply of cleaning supplies (all of the men being complete slobs).

"Wowee…" Toki whispered, though the blonde quickly smothered his mouth with a pale hand.

Footsteps were heard by the slurred mumbling of the drummer,

"Doodily doo…ding dong…doodily doodily doo…" he hummed, but suddenly stopped. More footsteps were heard, this time heavier, and a slamming noise.

The more sensitive Toki jumped at the noise, though Skwisgaard just raised an inquisitive eyebrow. What were those dildos doing?

Muffled noises were heard outside the door and to both the Scandinavians surprise light flooded into the small room as both Nathan and Pickles pulled in, lip locked and moaning quietly.

"What in the fucking names of Odin?" Skwisgaard cried, all the men packed into the room panicked and confused.

Nathan looked the most embarrassed, but Pickles was turning red against his usually Irish-American skin.

"Oh. Uh. Hey guys." He tried, looking at both Toki and Skwisgaard. Then both his eyebrows raised, realising he and his partner were not the only ones being outted at that moment.

"God fucking dammit." Nathan sighed, everything colliding into a _very_ awkward situation.


	2. The Plan

Toki stared at the model airplane in front of him, heaving a great sigh as he placed it down onto the work table.  
The past couple days had been awful, tension at full keel as the realisation that there was a lot more love to metal music than they thought was shown to them in a blinding flash.  
Ever since the outting in the closet Skwisgaard had only allowed his fellow guitarist into his quarters in the dead of night and had avoided him the rest of the day. Nathan was locked into the recording room, no one had seen him since. The drummer was the only one the Norwegian had caught sight of, slipping into Nathan's prison, giving an almost apologetic look to Toki, the sadness on the youngest band member's face a miserable thing to see.  
Now it was around 7pm, which would usually be the time they all ate together, if everyone wasn't so upset.  
Murderface had been caught yelling all throughout the house, completely confused why everyone was hiding except the rhythm guitarist and obviously pissed that they were being cold to him.  
A knock at Toki's door made him jump, and he excitedly sprinted to it, hoping hard that possibly his Swedish partner would stop being so godforsakenly coy.  
As he pulled the heavy door open the sight of flaming red dreadlocks caught him off guard.  
"Pickle?" He asked, confused that he be standing there, looking like a wreck.  
One of the dreads at the top of his head was falling out of place, the bags under his eyes heavier and darker than usual. He looked absolutely... Sober.  
"Hay, Toki. Can we Uh... Talk?"  
The Norwegian opened the door wider, beckoning him in. Once the door was closed Pickles took a deep breath, looking anywhere but at the man before him.  
"Pickle, you actings funny. Maysbe you needs vodka?" He pouted, unsure what was happening.  
"No, no, that's not it. Listen kid, you and I both know the shit that's goin' down, our boys are bein' complete assholes, and this has gotta stop. You get me?" the ginger sighed, walking over to sit on the edge of the twin bed, looking battered.  
Though the state of his friend made him sad, Toki was enthralled that he was coming to him.  
"Yes! Theys beings so stupid. Wes all still friends, evens if we is with each other."  
"Exactly! So I need ya help. You need to talk to uh, Skwisgaard, get him to stop being so stupid, and I'll do the same on my side. 'pparently he and Nat'n ran into each other, today. Didn't go well."  
Panic fled into the youngest's chest as the last sentence, and Pickles saw it.  
"Ams they okay?" He gasped, his already doe eyes looking even wider and more emotional.  
The drummer smiled wryly at the concern that was painted onto the man before him, patting the space on the bed next to him and when it was complied to he wrapped a toned arm around the guitarist, allowing the younger to cuddle into his side, like a child.  
"They're fine, kid. Charles dragged them off-a each other, as usual."  
Toki sniffed and reached across the bed for Deddy, sighing.  
"Thank goodnesses for Charlies. What's we do now, Pickle? They so dumb, theys never be normal agains! " tears began to brim out of the pale blue eyes, his stress becoming overwhelming after trying to hide it for so many days. Even though he and Skwisgaard loved each other very much not much had changed between the two, the blonde was still just as cocky and selfish, almost never listening to the requests of his partner, which had been for the drama to stop.  
"We'll figure something out, don't worry too hard. I know Skwisgaard let's you go see him at night, Think you can coax him out of his room? If I can just get us all in a room together I know I can get 'em to listen. Did it with the Snakes once, though they weren't exactly as big of douchebags." Pickles looked once more at Toki, patting his shoulder gently. The Norwegian hugged Deddy harder to his chest before wiping his eyes and nodding.  
"I'lls do it."

**_Note: So sorry for the different format of this chapter, friends. I wrote it on my phone (_****_ah, the glory of writing during classes_****_) and it seems to not agree with my usual word document fashion. I'll try my damndest to not have this happen again (_****_along with the fact that it makes it look so much smaller than it is, I can't stand it!_****_) Thank you for your patience _****_c: _**


	3. Trigger Point

"Pickles, I swear to everything that if you're lying I'm gonna kill you with my bare hands." Nathan grumbled, though his statement being rather contradictory with the fact that his hands were busying themselves being held by the drummer.

He only laughed at the threat, squeezing the (now rather unthreatening) burly hands gently, carting his lover along.

"Oh, shut up, Nat'n. I wouldn't lie to ya wit'out cause."

Nathan eyed him suspiciously, catching quietly onto the last part of the sentence, though saying nothing.

They reached the end of the long hall, pulling into the main room. If Pickles hadn't been in front the lead singer would have just turned around and left, but his view to the other two men was blocked.

Skwisgaard and Toki loitered on the couch lazily, the Norwegian laying his head on his lover's lap, his auburn hair splayed out in thick strands as it was gently petted and toyed with unconsciously. The two were saying and doing nothing, just content to be outside of the Swede's room.

When the footsteps of the approaching band members became prominent Skwisgaard quickly turned his head, his face flushing in colour at the sight.

The Norwegian felt the reaction and moved swiftly before he could be pushed away and his lover charged.

Swooping out of his relaxed position he sat forcibly on the lap that he previously had his head on, then grabbed long milky white arms and pressed them down.

"Tokis, lets me gos, now!" he hissed, anger swelling up into his chest.

"No! Wes work this out, stops being such a lady, Skwisgaard!" he growled back, forcing the wrists of the blonde hard into the couch against his struggles.

It was too late for Nathan to turn around by the time he heard the two Scandinavians argue.  
"Pickles, what the fuck?" he huffed, seeing the two wrestle on the couch.

"I said I wouldn't lie wit'out a cause. This is my cause." The redhead shrugged, his partner now much less eager to be taken towards the couch, the promise of hot-tub sex now out of question.

The two reached the others, Nathan and Skwisgaard eyeing each other angrily, Toki and Pickles looking tired.

A few moments passed before the youngest spoke, quiet but strict.

"If I's let go, you promise to nots run away like little lamb?" Toki asked, knowing the comparison would assure his lover to not run, he hated to look like a coward.  
"I's not running, we was here first. Nathan and Pickle can go bes gay somewheres else, hmm?" the Swede taunted, pursing his lips as the hands of the frontman curled his hands into fists.

"Shut the fuck up, you fucking twig." He growled, ready to jump into another fight with the lead guitarist.

Pickle grabbed one of the thick arms that was flexing with anger.

"C'mon Nat'n, don't do this." He sighed, knowing for a fact he couldn't hold the man back, but was damned determined to try. Toki still had a strict hold on his fellow Nord's wrists, though they were fighting silently to be free.

"No. He fucking started this, Pickles. I should twist him into pulp."

Skwisgaard rolled his eyes, a taunt all in it's own.

"That's it, I'm going to fucking kill you!" the lead growled, breaking Pickles' grip on him, lunging for both the men on the couch (Toki still holding Skwisgaard down).

At this the unexpected happened for all of them. The Norwegian jumped up, and lunged in his own right. Nathan was down, blood flowing out of his nose, Toki on top of him, fist covered in the same blood.

It was one lithe punch, quicker than a bullet but harder than a bomb. A quick crack came from Nathan's nose as the punch had connected with it.

Toki was then up once more, staring at the lead that laid on the ground in complete surprise.

Before there was time for a reaction the usually childish and sweet Norwegian was turned to his lover, anger and sadness filling his pale blue eyes.

"Now yous listens to me, Skwis! Yous figure your stupid bullshit outs or we ams through! If yous so damns ashamed of me ands don'ts wants da worlds to knows, then just says so!"

Skwisgaard's eyes widened, the threat he heard coming from his fellow guitarist absolutely not a bluff, and he knew it for fact. His mouth opened and closed multiple times, searching for words, but all that came out was slurred and completely nonsensical Swedish, getting only a glare from Toki before he turned to Nathan.

"And yous, Nathans! Don'ts you fuckings dares touch Skwisgaard like dats or I's personal-alies breaks your nose all overs agains tills yous looks like da snakeses! Ands how dares you treat Pickle like dis? Fucks you! _Fucks both of yous_!"

Tears brimmed in his eyes as he yelled the last four words, and everyone stood, staring at him. This seemed to happen for an eternity before Toki ran out of the room, heaving sobs.

A few moments passed, Nathan still laying on the ground where he had been thrown, Pickles standing a few feet away, and Skwisgaard on the couch.

The first to dare move was the drummer, walking silently over to Nathan, kneeling down and pulling off his black tank top, wiping away all the blood gently avoiding the broken cartilage of the nose. Nathan took Pickles unused hand holding it quietly, they both keeping eye contact as he was tended to. The leftover guitarist just stared at the loving gesture, surprised to see the two so sweet, so tender, and so…in love.

"Dildos…" he cursed, not to them, but to himself. The drummer looked to him, raising an eyebrow in questioning.

"Pardon me." The Swede rose from the couch, stalking past them both, touching his hand gently to Pickles shoulder as he passed.

Things weren't exactly as they always seemed.


	4. Realisation

Morning light was flowing through all the large windows, almost 6am. The night had been horrid. Not even four hours ago the fight had occurred, and no one could get Toki to come out of his room, he'd even taken the liberty to barricade the door, a note posted on the outside. Scribbled in broken English,

"**Keeps Outed, Ors Yuos Phase Toki Rath!**"

Skwisgaard had torn it off in anger a few times but the Norwegian had hired a Klokateer to post a new one each time (Toki had given him an entire stack, each getting more and more threatening, especially towards the Swede).

As much as he knew that Toki would just need time, it was physically paining him to hear broken sobs pouring through the walls, the wailing only being quieted when there was a great crash of a fist to a wall or a model plane being broken.

He had yelled through the wall multiple times only to hear glass shatter against the wall in his direction, obviously a bottle of alcohol being thrown to show his lovers discontent at him yelling "Tokis, dammit, talks to me!" multiple times.

The blonde knew what had to be done, he had to fix this, but as Pickles had said quite awhile back, they were not professional apologisers, and he out of them all was the worst. Whenever the man tried to apologise he ended up yelling, frustrated with everything. It came out in a strangled voice of

'Dammit I's sorries, but it's yous fault toos! Stops beinks mad!"

, never being able to admit that he was the only one at fault.

Now he stood there, staring at the door he could not force himself through. The crying of Toki had not seized in hours, but had insomuch turned into complete wailing. Angry tears were starting to moisten the face of the usually haughty Scandinavian as well. He couldn't believe this was happening, crying over the less competent rhythm guitarist.

It wasn't that he wanted the tears to fall, but they were relieving in a way, feeling this deep for someone.

Then something in him snapped, a realisation so hard and quick that he couldn't believe it.

If he, Skwisgaard Skwigelf the fastest guitarist alive, could feel such angry passion for someone, why couldn't Nathan or Pickles, his fellow bandmates? If Toki could be in his room breaking things and howling in misery, why couldn't the others?

"Gods to de fucking dammits." He huffed, wiping away his tears quickly. He kicked the wall as hard as he could, probably breaking a toe or two, before stomping off, ignoring the pain they gave.

He slammed his feet onto the tile with every step, so angry with himself that it hurt right in his core.

The other outted couple had stayed in the main room, though Pickles had left periodically to try and coax Toki out of his room, rearing the same results as Skwisgaard (though with a considerable amount more of "tell dat swede dildos he cans sleeps by himselfs forevers!" yelled through the wall).

Nathan had gotten his nose set between those hours as well, a doctor that Charles had paid to be always available at night coming at call to put on a ridiculous looking cast. Now they were sitting on the couch, Pickles tucked into the lead's side, the size difference between the two almost laughable.

Skwisgaard came storming in, surprising both the other bandmates.

"Pickle, please leaves, I needs to talks to Nathans." He said quickly, feeling a bit red in the face at seeing the two so close and comfortable, something he now knew he would have to get used to.

The drummer got up, eyeing Nathan with a cautionary look, expressing perfectly that if there was another scuffle there would be hell to pay. The lead just huffed, pushing his lover away.

When the ginger was gone they both stared at each other for a second, before they both tried to talk first, quickly hushing each other. They both tried against more, the same happening.

"Yous go." Skwisgaard sighed, gesturing for the burly man to go.

"Ugh, fine. Okay. Pickles has been bothering me to fucking get over this and I know it's fucking weird but. Mmf. I guess we're gonna have to. Uh. Get used to it. Okay." He said in his gravely voice, looking all over as he said so, not able to make contact with the guitarist.

"Yes, yous right. I's…I's….I's sorries. Buts don't takes that as ams reasons to be a dildo, dammit!"

Nathan chuckled slightly, the first smile that had risen since 2am.

"Fine. I'm sorry too, man. But that's pretty fucking gay." And with that they both laughed slightly, the fact prominent that they were both pretty fucking gay indeed.


	5. Scandinavian Embrace

"Pfft, ja, the little dildos has not comes out of his rooms and we needs to rehearse!" the Swede huffed, crossing his arms to show his displeasure.

Nathan, Skwisgaard, and Pickles all stood in front of their manager's desk, the man looking tired with the problems.

Of course he had heard Toki's screaming, who couldn't? But he had figured Skwisgaard would have tended to it at some point soon. As secretive as the two Scandinavians thought they were Charles knew very well about their romance, but preferred to not interfere, knowing the end would not justify the means. Now that the band (save Murderface and Toki) was coming to him for help (which they so very rarely did) he knew it was important.

Taking another deep sigh (among a long string of them that had began at the entrance of the boys) the manager reached for his dethphone and dialed carefully and calmly. It rang a few times before a sniffling and hoarse voice answered.

"Hellos?" it murmured quietly, Toki Wartooth barely able to stifle his whimpering to try and seem normal.

"Toki, can you please come up here? The boys and I would like to have a word with you."

A high-pitched squeak was heard at the mention of the other bandmates through the speaker of the phone.

"Nos, I will nots gos! Theys always ruinings things! Alls of thems!" the Norwegian cried, and they could all practically hear him waving his hands to emphasize his point.

Charles stayed calm, trying again,

"Come now Toki, they're still your bandmates. Can at least Skwisgaard go see you?"

The Swede turned red, wondering quickly why the manager had jumped to thinking that Toki would want to see him. Did he know? He pondered, looking closely at the older man's face, which gave away nothing.

A few seconds passed, and they all would have thought he had hung up if haggard breaths weren't heard through the phone.

"Fine." He finally whispered, and then abruptly the call was ended.

The Swede looked shocked, amazed that he was finally allowed to go see his lover. Everyone looked at him expectedly, and he stood paralyzed. How could he ever make up for this one? Why hadn't he thought of a plan sooner? In his mind he was kicking himself.

"Well go on!" Pickles nudged the guitarist slightly towards the door. Skwisgaard quickly composed himself to look calm.

"Yes, of course. Little dildos does nots know what he wants, eh. Pfft." And he made his way out of the room.

111111111111111111111111111111

The door was slightly ajar, though the room was much dimmer than usual, only casting a half-assed beam of light out into the hall.

Skwisgaard called out quietly to his fellow guitarist before pushing the door open.

Pieces of broken glass surrounded the entrance, and pretty much everywhere else. Parts of different World War One airplane models littered the floor, accompanying the glass and alcohol that was splayed about, along with ripped clothes and completely destroyed guitars, every part of a Flying V could be seen somewhere in the room. Holes, the size of Norwegian fists, decorated the walls, some even leading to broken pipes.

As he took this all in he almost forgot about why he came until he glanced into a corner.

Toki Wartooth was curled into a fetal position, his head in-between his knees, shaking hard. His whimpers were quiet but continuous, as if though on loop from a track. His hands were bloody, wrapped around his neck as he shook and rocked back and forth.

The blonde walked cautiously toward him. It had been a very long time since he had seen the younger man in such a state, so feral, so angry, and so…hollow.

"Toki…?" he whispered, hoping for a response, which he did not receive, just moans of sorrow. Edging closer he was finally in front of the shell of his lover.

"Toki please says somethinks…"

More whimpers.

"C'mon Toki."

Same.

Unsure what else to do Skwisgaard slowly slid to sit next to him, ignoring the great amount of glass that was digging into his ass. He reached to touch the Norwegian, laying long fingers on top of the head of his broken love. He ran his hands through the tangled hair, being careful to not pull (which he often did, though of course, not in this setting). They stayed like this for awhile, but the shaking of the younger man had seized after a few moments of petting, though he did not raise his head for over thirty minutes after this special treatment started.

It rose slowly and crooked, almost robotically.

His face was covered in blood, his own blood. Now that his partner could see his arms it was now observed that they were completely covered in deep cuts, reading angry words in Norwegian, and the same blood was dried and crusted on the rising face. The middle insides of his arms were blue where multiple needles had been shoved into it mercilessly. His pale eyes were bright red and puffy from the crying, his pupils so tiny they were almost unable to be seen. Scratches covered his cheeks from where his nails had been dragged across them, causing more crusted blood.

At this sight Skwisgaard could not keep composed. He released a great and sorrowful cry, gathering the Norwegian into his arms, weeping openly and hard. His full lips found their way to the cheeks of his lover, laying feathered kisses onto each bloody gash.

"_Jagär ledsen, jag ärledsen, jagär så ledsen__!_"**1** he breathed through each kiss, shaking even harder than even his lover had before.

Toki allowed this, feeling powerless to deny or commend the act of passion that was sweeping across his partner.

He seized only after he felt he'd gotten every single cut on the face before him, then took his hands and gently cupped the young chin of his only.

"Toki. I ams not ashamed of yous, _min enda__kärlek!_**2** I ams so sorrys, I ams so sorrys. I wills do anythings, please speaks to me." he sobbed, unsure what else to do.

"Skwisgaard…yous…such a stupid idiots." Toki heaved, looking deeply into the baby blue eyes in front of him. The Swede looked panicked, unknowing what was meant by this. Then a crooked and barely tangible smile splayed onto the Norwegian's face.

"_Men jag älskardig ändå._"**3** he then breathed, going in for a kiss. The Swede was far ahead of him, lunging for their lips to meet.

Passion raged like a fire in both of them, It had only been less than 24 since the fight, but it had felt like a lifetime. Nothing had ever hurt so bad or seemed so long for either of them.

Blood stung the taste of their kiss, but it led them further, pressing and groping to one another, growling with fury and need.

"If yous don't gets your pants off rights now I'm goink to haves my own fits, _min vännen_.**4**" Skwisgaar barked against his lovers teeth, grinning hard.

He knew he wasn't the best person to be with Toki, he knew that with every part of his being, but he also knew with the passion of his soul that there was nothing in the entire crazy world that could beat make up sex with someone who made that damned crazy world turn in the first place.

Swedish Translations (_**Yes, I know Toki is Norwegian, but I like to think he learned Swedish just for Skiwsgaard. Plus, they're very similar!**_):

**1:** I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!

**2:** My only love

**3:** But I love you anyway

**4:**My lover

_**Note: Ah, here I am again, appearing at the end of a chapter, my apologies. I just thought I should say that there is still one more chapter to go with this writing. I was intending to have this be the end but there's still some lose ties, ja? Anyway, please stick around, our couples are almost to safety! **_


	6. As It Is

It was completely noticeable, every damn aspect of it all, and William Murderface was no fool. How was he expected to turn a blind eye to Deddy Bear now finding home in the fur bedding of Skwisgaard? Was he really supposed to disregard having seen Pickles and Nathan humming the exact same love songs to themselves at different times? How asinine of them all to figure the bassist as that belligerently ignorant.

Now they were all backstage together, not a single woman in sight. It had been months since the men had invited ladies backstage to fuck, and the only one who it seemed to be upsetting was Murderface, for reasons unspoken by them all but obvious as the moon.

He glared around to each of them, Skwisgaard talking quietly with Toki, Pickles throwing his drumsticks in the air and catching them, giving suggestions to Nathan on lyrics as the burly lead scribbled into his notebook.

"You fucking aschholes! All of you!" he finally yelled, his hands balling into fists. They all stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to go on. William was prone to fits, they all knew to just let him rage.

He went on, as figured,

"You know what, I'm not a fucking idiot you guysh! Itsch not like I can't hear you!" he bellowed, giving each of them a glare. None of the other band members reacted to this, still sure that their secrets were safe. This made the bassist even angrier.

"Don't look at me like that! You guysch can all be gay as fuck for all I care, I don't fucking care, but schtop hiding or I'm going to kill myschelf!"

At this all watching eyes widened, the jig completely up for them all. Skwisgaard was the first that reacted, with a smug grin on his face.

"Goods job, Moiderface. Hidinks from yous was gettinks annoying, fuckink dildo." He smirked, tossing a wave of blonde locks behind his shoulder haughtily, fingering at his guitar quickly. Toki giggled a little, despite his best efforts not to. Though the two guitarists had been true to each other, he had a hidden fear they would be denied if finally outted to the bass player, and this all was fantastic news.

Murderface glared at them, before the voice of the oldest member interrupted it all,

"Yeah, I guess we coulda…ya know. Been honest. We didn't uh…really think you'd take it this well, dood." He chuckled, now unafraid to close the gap of space between him and Nathan, tucking himself into the side of his stubborn lover, who momentarily tried to push him away before just letting it happen and wrapping a large arm around the ginger.

The bassist was a little unsure how to proceed, seeing the two together was something he wasn't prepared to. They really did look silly, Pickles looking so little and content up next to the brutal lyricist.

Toki saw his other bandmates cuddled together and released a squeal of happiness, crawling across the floor where the two guitarist sat a few feet apart, proceeding to wrap his arms around the neck of the Swede, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek. The blonde turned bright red, looking embarrassed. As hard as he tried to keep composed he grinned like an idiot (even if just for a moment).

The bassist looked at them all, so fucking gay, the lot of it. It took him a moment to find what to say, seeing them all so…not brutal.

"Damn, keep it to yourselvesch, fucking douschebags." He sighed.

As much as he was shocked and disgusted at all of them, he was much more relieved that he wasn't being lied to. Sure, homosexuals definitely were not his cup of tea, but as hard as he tried to not care for these piss-faced idiots, they were his family.

1111111111111111111111111111111111

Things were all going better than expected. Though they kept their relationship statuses out of public eye, just like pretty much everything else, being able to show love was an amazing experience for every single one of them.

The entire dynamic of the band had changed, but not them all together,

Skwisgaard still belittled Toki and bitched about everything, but now the little Norwegian was always smiling at both the seemingly unpleasant personality flaws, somehow continually finding a way to curl up next to the Swede at night with that same smile.

Toki drank considerably less, no longer finding need to escape through alcohol. Though, of course it helped that he always had a tall blonde by his side shaking his insulin at him with a disapproving look when a bottle was pulled out of the mini fridge in their now shared room.

Pickles and Nathan were the most curious though, acting exactly the same as they had since the beginning of time (save some newly shown cuddling), which had raised the most questions. When they were approached with this the two had grinned at each other, snickering lightly. As it had turned out the two had been together since they were teenagers, two stupid high-school kids that met online and wanted to be musicians. They had been outted several times throughout their relationship and it had now just become natural to look like friends, though if you watched them close enough and long enough you'd catch googly eyed glances that were much more than friendly.

Though Murderface was now the only single, straight, man in the group, he was much less concerned with it than he thought he would be.

The amount of hate that the group thought they had maintained for all these years was finally being revealed to be something much stronger and much longer-lasting. Throughout all the hurt and the anger and the sadness that had been forced on each man, apologies and confessions had spread like wildfire, and though it had taken a long time to realise,

_Not everything is always as it seems._

**_Final Note: Well friends, there we have it. Short and sweet ending, I suppose is what I would call this. Now I thank you all for reading this completely unplanned fic, and being as lovely as you all are. I will be posting plenty more Metalocalypse fanfictions with these shippings, so if you liked it, keep an eye out, yeah? Once again, thank you all, lovely people. _**


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